


The Day You Died

by chaotically_cas



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mentions of War, Poem? - Freeform, Short but sad?, heart been broke so many times, idk angst & no comfort, mentions of bullets/gunshots, tw cursing, tw death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 20:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30027315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaotically_cas/pseuds/chaotically_cas
Summary: My chest heaves with so many empty wordsMy head spins and and my hands burnWords like whispers and heart strings plucked dullWhen news of your death echoed through my skullIt felt the like bullets had ripped through me as well as youAnd my heart had completely broken in twoYour eyes now cold dead instead of bright blueHands no longer holding mine but wrapped around the barrel of a metal gunHe died no longer the happiest son
Relationships: Sodapop Curtis/Steve Randle
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	The Day You Died

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda a vent work?? Idk but yeah have it anyway. Sorry it’s shit lol

I remembered when I first got the news ‘he’s dead’. Darry would barely look me in the eyes. He didn’t even have the decency to, I guess. Who tells a guy his best friend has been gunned down across the world and doesn’t even have the guts to look me in the eyes? Some brother he is. To me and to Soda. 

Shit, I can’t even say his name out loud, only in my head. Cause if I say it out loud that means fielding the looks that comes with it. Pony looking at me like I don’t deserve to say his name, god I hate him. And Darry looking at me like he again doesn’t have the guts to tell me not to use it. So I don’t say his name much anymore. And it’s been three years. 

It’s been three years and I can still smell his shitty pine cologne from when he would lean a little too close to me and whisper in my ear about some broad who was staring at him. It’s been three years and I can still picture his smile clear as day and how it made my insides feel aflame, like something Pony would write in his pansy ass poems. And I know it’s been three years but I still miss him like hell. 

No one understood me the way Sodapop did. No one could make me feel better like him either. There was something about him, maybe it was magic, like I used to think when I was a kid. But I guess there’s always been something about Sodapop that was magically. 

He was the only one I could trust with all the shit with my dad after Johnny died. He never really did have a good attention span but even then he would still let me rant and talk and complain for hours about my old man. Even though he didn’t have one anymore, it was something I always thought was real gallant of him. Like Ponyboy would say. 

I thought about how he only kissed me the once. At the DX when too many girls were bothering him. I guess it was his way of playing a joke on them, kissing me like that, making them all go wide eyed. ‘I’m just messing around, he’s my best buddy’. I should’ve been mad, with him using me like that. But I wasn’t. I knew he didn’t mean anything by it, he never did. 

He never meant anything by the way he smiled at me, bit his lip, twinkle in his eye. Or when he brushed against me at the DX or when we played cards. God everything he did he was so oblivious, it killed me.  
But now that’s all I had left of him. Bits and pieces of one sided memories, glances, and words. 

It made me angry about everything I never told him. I tried to write it all in a letter once, while he was away. But Darry said it might not be such a good idea. You know ‘we can’t have him not being focused or he’ll get killed’ that whole thing. I guess that didn’t end up so good cause he still ended up down the road under six feet of dirt. And I still ended up with a decades worth of regrets and one single fucking joke of a kiss. Real pathetic. 

So now I make my way down to that cemetery every weekend and try to tell him everything I wanted to for years. But after three of them still nothing much comes out. I felt the same way I did when he was still here. Choking on the same feelings my dad would slap out of me. Holding back similar words every time his arm was flung around my shoulders but now they just felt cold. 

The world was a whole lot dimmer without Sodapop. My world definitely was.


End file.
